The Object Diaries | Diary Entry: The Adelaide Hills Cloche

Tiny tales of the objects we find, love, and bring back to life.

Who I Am

I’m a vintage glazed pottery cloche 24.5 cm wide, 17 cm tall, and a sturdy 2.07 kg of warm, earthy stoneware. My twisted handle curls like a vine reaching for light, and my glaze settles in soft, russet tones that feel like late afternoon in the hills. Beneath me, an impressed maker’s mark, a shield divided by a cross that quietly hints at the hands that shaped me.

Where I was Found

My story begins somewhere in the Adelaide Hills. The exact place is lost to memory, but that feels right. I’ve always belonged to landscapes where mist hangs low and gum trees whisper. Maybe I sat in a farmhouse kitchen, maybe I lived on a long wooden table. All I know is that I was made to hold warmth.

What I Remember

I’ve covered fresh loaves, steaming vegetables, maybe even a Sunday roast. My handle has been lifted thousands of times, gently, lovingly revealing meals that brought people together. I’ve heard laughter, quiet conversations, and the soft clatter of plates. I’ve been part of the rhythm of home.

How I Was Made

My clay is dense and well‑fired, my glaze smooth but softly mottled, the signature of Australian studio pottery from the 1970s–1980s. The potter who made me worked with confidence: you can see it in the twist of my handle, the weight of my base, the mark pressed beneath me. I was shaped slowly, intentionally, by someone who believed everyday objects deserved beauty.

Where I Belong Now

Today, I live in a world that moves faster than the one I came from, but I still ask for slowness. I sit comfortably on a benchtop or table, a sculptural presence that invites pause. I can cover bread, fruit, or simply be admired for the life I’ve lived.

What I Want You to Know

I was made to hold warmth, not just of food, but of home. And now, in your hands, I could get to begin a new chapter.